


Past Tense, Future Perfect

by chibinocho



Category: The Lost Future of Pepperharrow, The Watchmaker of Filigree Street - Natasha Pulley
Genre: Character Study, Future, Imprisonment, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibinocho/pseuds/chibinocho
Summary: Set during Mori's imprisonment during Lost Future of Pepperharrow, Mori dwells on the pasts he can't remember and future he truly desires.
Relationships: Keita Mori/Thaniel Steepleton
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Past Tense, Future Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> I love these books! Couldn't resist writing another piece for them. The title is taken from a Zadie Smith quote: “The past is always tense, the future perfect.”

He has lost track of the days now. Mainly because he is thinking in so many different pasts, presents and futures that he is having trouble pin-pointing where he is at that particular moment and how far he is along in this future he has plotted. His mind is beginning to feel like an overwound pocket watch: the cogs and springs are out of time and he is beginning to struggle to make them work in order again.

He knows he has done this to himself. That he has altered various futures to ensure that he has ended up in this cell in this place. He even knows that he submitted willingly to chloroform back at Yoruji - although the pain in his wrist was something he hadn’t expected. He also knew about the injections; the ones that leave him blank and hazy in the present but alert and clear in the future. He had allowed all this because he knows there is an end. He cannot fully remember to what end he is working towards but he knows this step is vital, it is important. It is a cog that cannot be removed from the mechanism he has constructed.

Kuroda visits him. He is aware of those visits. How could he not? Of course he is aware of Kuroda striding up to the cell in his black suit, flanked by his faceless guards, blocking out the shaft of daylight that Mori has begun to see as his own personal possession. Kuroda seems so pleased with himself, that he has Mori fully under his control and Mori hasn’t the energy or the present-sight to actually contradict him. 

“I saw your geisha.” Kuroda says, sitting down on the ledge opposite him. It is apparently one of two ‘bunks’ in this cell. Mori cannot think of anything less ‘bunk-like’. Kuroda sees he has not responded and leans forward. “Your geisha’s not looking too good is he?”

Kuroda knows. Of course he knows. He has known Mori for years - has coveted Mori for years in more ways than one - and whilst he might be a vicious warmongering drunk, he is an astute observer and critic of people. He knows exactly what Thaniel is to Mori. Mori is pretty sure Kuroda had monitored him throughout his time in London and once the name Nathaniel Steepleton had come up, Kuroda would have had Thaniel investigated too, no doubt to gain leverage over Mori. It wouldn't have taken long for Kuroda to put the pieces together. He would have then confirmed it the minute they arrived at Yoruji and had further guarantee when Mori had knocked him off his horse in his defence of Thaniel. If Mori hadn’t been so sure of the future he had put into place, he would worry for Thaniel’s safety.

But still. The mention of Thaniel must have provoked some form of reaction because Kuroda looks delighted.

“Have you anything to tell me?” he says softly. Mori is mute and one of the guards looks to move forward but Kuroda lifts a hand stopping him. This is his moment and he will control it. Instead he gestures to the guard who looks askance but draws out the now familiar black case. It’s too soon, and far too many but Mori doesn’t care. Not anymore. He allows Kuroda to draw out his arm and watches as he injects him with the medicine again. The needle is cold and the fluid sliding through his flesh is colder still and Kuroda's eyes are alight like he is enjoying this, believing that he is seeing Mori helpless. The needle is withdrawn, handed back to the guard. They sit in silence for what could be minutes, maybe even hours. 

“Well?” says Kuroda finally, softly. But softly with Kuroda is never a sign of gentleness; softly with Kuroda usually means any neighbouring country should be afraid.

“Not yet. It’s not time.” Mori answers, just as softly but there is a core of iron in his words. Even with that drug tearing him away from the present and throwing him into futures; he knows it is still not not time. Not yet. 

With a glare Kuroda suddenly realises he still does not have the control of Mori he thought he had. He viciously backhands him across the face but of course Mori knows it is going to happen and has fought against every instinct he has to not react to the intention. He moves his face enough to make the blow much more of a glancing one - he really doesn't want to sit here with the broken jaw he would have had if he hadn't - and Kuroda looks downright furious.

“Fuck you, Mori.”

He would actually, if Mori would ever let him. He has made that very clear from the moment they met on that battlefield but Mori has already seen those futures. They aren't good ones.

Kuroda stares incredulously at Mori before he departs with a loud slam of the cell door and a string of curses. Mori has his shaft of daylight back and returns to his futures, although not without that slight spasm of worry still about Thaniel. That irrepressible, wonderful man is the single most unpredictable element in this whole future coming to pass and Mori has tried to protect him, keep him safe, keep him well and keep him out of this. He cannot even contemplate losing him and he doesn't care if Thaniel doesn't know or care.

Maybe he does just a little.

Mori stares once again at his cool shaft of sunlight creating a clean, cold pale square on the stone floor. It's a pity his memories of the past have never quite come up to the same standard as his future ones. If they could, he would have far more pleasant entertainment in this cell recalling past pleasures. He tries to recall days at the zoo with Six. Late nights with Thaniel playing chess or Go. Cups of tea passing between them in the morning with fingers brushing in the warmest of caresses. The furrow between Thaniel's brows as he worked on a particularly difficult part of his music. The quizzical brow raise of Six as she finally discovered how Katsu's magnets worked. The taste of Thaniel's sweat-damp skin after he had won that boxing match. The feel of Thaniel's mouth for the first time sliding down his body. The muffled moan Thaniel made as they tried to stay quiet that one Christmas. He tries to remember each experience clearly but it is like trying to see through a frozen lake: he only gets flashes and hints.

But the futures remain.

They overwhelm him. Not just his machinations with Kuroda. Not just the Russians. Not the Ministry. Not Abashiri where Takiko should now be. No. Thaniel struggling to breathe and falling to the floor. Blood on a white handkerchief. A church filled with people in black. Six without a father and a guardian both. Yoruji. Electricity and microscopes. The future children he would have with Takiko Pepperharrow. The son. Cutting through it all is the loss of Thaniel.

He hisses through his teeth, furiously blinking tears and wonders what colour Thaniel would see at that noise. Probably a harsh burnt orange. The thought grounds him and he pries through the increasingly twisted and knotted threads of future in his mind to seize on that one particular future. The one he keeps locked down tight as it's the future he craves more than any others he can see.

It is in Cornwall, in Heligan at the end of a glorious summer and the scent of frangipani and lavender is strong in the faintly salted air. Six is out in the garden, at a table which has a slew of technical components, various tools and a propped open technical manual on radio waves. She is almost fully grown: a handsome young woman still delicately petite but full of a wry intelligence and calm confidence. But they are not with her, they are in the bedroom on the first floor with the balcony doors flung wide to let the warm September air flow through. He and Thaniel are entwined on the bed, skin against skin. They are older, more lines in their features and there are threads of grey through their hair but Thaniel is still there, still living and breathing. He is smiling down at Mori, eyes warm and loving.

That future - or has Mori now pulled at that future so hard that it has become mere fantasy? - fades too quickly. He wishes he had paper and pens to write it down, but Mori feels it slip between his fingers like sand again leaving only the afterimage of blood on a handkerchief. The sense of loss and grief washes back over him like the tide and pulls away to reveal Russians, ironclads, the Duke, the prison and Kuroda. He still has work to do. His body slows and succumbs to it's stasis and thrusts him back into his web of futures once again as he waits for Kuroda's return and Takiko's debt to be paid.


End file.
